


The Last Waltz

by mocking_words



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Dancing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:45:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocking_words/pseuds/mocking_words
Summary: Jon has the last waltz with Daenerys





	The Last Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing a Jonerys fic, I hope you like it x

If there was anything he loathed more than wearing suits, it was parties. “Come now, Snow. You look like you’ve just been given a death sentence,” Robb chuckled as they made their way towards the grand ballroom of the Four Seasons Hotel. New York City was at its prime at this time of the year and every corner was bursting with excitement. Hotels were making enough to fuel them into the next financial year and the economy was thriving off of it.

Jon kept his steps in time with Robb's and grumbled unhappily, "I might as well have been."

“It’ll be over before you know it, besides, the party is already nearing the end; no thanks to you. Mother will be livid.”

Of course, Catelyn would be angry. He had kept Robb from rubbing elbows with the other rich and famous at a Targaryen-hosted party nonetheless. It had been an invitation-only event, as most parties the aristocrats of New York held were, and everyone who was anyone was expected to be there. The black tuxedo Jon was wearing was respectable but Robb’s fit him like a second skin. His older brother, _half-brother_ he corrected, was looking dashing in his suit and Jon had no doubt that as soon as he entered the room, all eyes would be on him.

He had been right. As soon as they announced Ned Stark’s eldest son had arrived, it was as if time had stopped. Soon enough, the ladies frolicked towards him like ants to sugar and Jon quietly extracted himself from the scene. He was only here for Sansa’s sake. She had been so excited that every time the occasion was brought up, she would be beside herself with joy. In fact, she had almost talked his ear off. He spotted her speaking with a young man who looked suspiciously like Robert Baratheon’s oldest son and Jon turned his gaze away. The Lannisters were here and Tywin's pair of twins, Jaime and Cersei, were off at the corner of the room, eyeing each other a little too intensely to be appropriate for the public eye. Their younger brother, Tyrion was drinking himself to a stupor as he flirted with a couple of girls by the champagne fountain. He observed the others in the richly-decorated ballroom and soon caught Sansa's eye. She waved at him with a bright smile before turning back to the conversation she was having. She looked like a true princess in her dark blue gown.

As he stood quietly at the corner of the room, a flute of champagne in hand, a voice spoke to him. “Are you always alone at parties?”

He looked up to see a curious pair of violet eyes on him and he had no doubt that she was a Targaryen. The silver hair that had been braided elaborately framed her face like a silhouette and Jon could not turn his gaze away. He straightened up and tried to think of something clever to say in response.

“I try to be.”

As soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he felt like hitting himself. Was this really what he was meant to be saying to the host of a party he was attending? If Catelyn didn’t murder him, Robb just might. But to his surprise, his companion didn’t chide him, nor did it descend into an awkward silence; instead, she merely laughed.

“Then pray tell, what are you doing here, kind sir?” She asked, not unkindly as she tilted her head in curiosity. “My sister, Sansa. It is her first time coming to one of these parties.”

“Oh. Your sister is beautiful. She’s got your mother’s lovely Tully looks."

“They have not been lost on her, certainly,” he agreed, casting a look at his sister who seemed like she was lost in her own world at the moment. “What about you, Jon Snow? You look every bit like your father.”

It didn’t quite surprise him that Daenerys Targaryen knew who he was, “I’m my father’s son, certainly. But it is to everyone’s knowledge that I am not Catelyn Stark’s son.”

“That does not make you any less a Stark than your brothers and sisters,” she replied. Of course, it did, but he kept quiet.

“Your brother Robb is quite the charmer, isn’t he?” She said, turning her gaze to Robb who had a group of giggling ladies by his side, “I don’t think I’ve seen quite so many ladies surrounding a man.”

Jon nodded and offered her a slight smile, “He has his ways.”

They stood silently for a moment before she spoke again, "They’re playing the last song in a moment. It’ll be over soon and then, you may escape this place.”

All of a sudden, he wished that he hadn’t arrived quite so late. Perhaps then he would have been able to spend more time with Daenerys. He couldn’t quite fathom why she had come over to speak with him, but he was grateful nonetheless.

“Would you dance with me, Jon Snow? Once, before you leave?” She asked, catching his eye with a quiet smile.

Before he could even respond, he found himself leaving his champagne flute on a nearby table and leading her onto the dance floor. As he held her hand and the orchestra started playing, he almost forgot that hundreds of society’s elites were staring at them.

_Ned Stark’s bastard was dancing with Daenerys Targaryen._

Perhaps they did make quite a picture; him, with his dark hair and her with her silver locks. They were as different as ice and fire, night and day, and yet; still the same. He could feel the heat of her body so close to his and it almost burnt him, in the best of ways. Jon wondered if she felt the same way.

He heard her laugh, “My eyes are up here.” It was then that he realised he had been focusing very intently on his feet as they waltzed around the ballroom.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” he muttered as he built up the confidence to look away from his shoes, “I’m apologising in advance if I step on your feet.”

“We’ll be alright,” she smiled.

_One, two, three, step. One, two, three, step._

Jon almost smiled at what Robb would certainly say after this. Perhaps he'd have to thank his older brother for teaching him how to waltz. They weren’t the only people on the dance floor and as part of the dance, they would soon have to switch partners.

“I don’t think I’ve ever danced outside of the house,” he said, shaking his head. “There is a first time for everything,” she teased as he let go of her hand and she went into the arms of another. Another lady filled her presence in his and she smiled at him as they danced. He managed to catch himself before he stepped on her feet and it wasn’t long before he held Daenerys in his arms again.

“You’re very different on the dance floor,” she noted, “It’s as if the brooding confidence that you had been emitting just a moment ago has been replaced by an awkward uncertainty.”

He met her eyes and before she was swept away again, he heard her say, “It’s quite endearing.”

They kept this up for awhile; trying to catch bits and pieces of conversation as they changed partners from time to time. Jon hated to say but he was having more fun than he'd like to admit. Daenerys always had something funny to say every time she returned to him and he could only try to keep up with her sense of humour. It was all too soon that the dance ended and they found themselves grinning in spite of it.

“You’re not a terrible dancer, Mr Snow,” she laughed as he smiled in kind, “You’re not quite half as bad yourself, Ms Targaryen.”

They stood there, in the middle of the dance floor, looking at each other as the audience clapped. She was a little breathless from the dancing and wisps of her silver hair had fallen out of its braids but Jon could only think that he had never seen anyone quite so beautiful as she.

He heard Robb calling his name but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. She smiled, her eyes twinkling, “Your brother is calling you. You should go. Thank you for the dance, Jon.”

As she turned to leave, he impulsively reached out for her hand, “Will I see you again?”

Her eyes widened slightly and he was almost embarrassed at what he had done, in a room full of people but he cared not for their quiet whispers. “I’m sure you will, Mr Snow,” she replied, smiling as she disappeared into the crowd. He had to see her again, he simply had to, for she had captured his heart with the last waltz he wished had lasted a little more after forever.


End file.
